Life of William 5: Belonging (final)
by ArchangelRises758
Summary: Ever wonder what Sanguine was like when he was young, long prior to his burrowing power and instinct to kill? This is the story telling about his life before magic, before he rose to the top of his world. Before he had somewhere to belong. And back then, things were very, very different.


The young boy arrived home late that very same day, covered in dirt and barging through a meeting his father and company were having. Despite the comments barked at him, William instantly shut himself up in his room and didn't say anything about what had just happened. There he stayed for at least a week, experimenting with this new-found power of his. He only went as far as letting his hands pass through the walls, bed and the floor, though his curiosity kept building.

What was this strange ability? It was something he'd never seen the likes of, and he needed to know more. He had to find out what this was. One time, late at night when he thought his father was asleep, William reached under his bed and pulled out a large book he stole that listed all the existing types of magic and magical entities. It took him a few hours to get through it beginning to end, and he found nothing at all about the strange tunneling-at-will he had experienced earlier that week. His exhaustion quickly mixed with frustration.

"You are never going to find anything useful in that book about your tunneling, son. Or any book for that matter." He father said from the doorway. "I was wondering where that volume had gone to."

William paused for a moment before he looked over his shoulder. "How did you know about it?"

"Malice saw the whole thing." He stepped aside to reveal a crow pecking around on the table. "I am impressed, William. And I couldn't be more proud."

"Proud of what, father? What about me has ever made you proud?"

"The fact that my boy is a Traveler."

The word sent chills up William's spine as something in his mind clicked, and he instantly knew that whatever a 'Traveler' must have been, that he was one of them. His father explained to him that Travelers used to be found all over the great country of America, flourishing eons ago in the thousands. He said that their magic gave them the capability of passing through anything solid that they wished, regardless of the material. They could fly through the ground at inhuman speeds, senses heightening whenever they did, allowing sounds from the surface world above to communicate with them no matter how deep they went. But one by one they simply started to die out, and no one knew why. They were believed to have been extinct, until now. Traveler magic was some of the most ancient the world has ever seen, and very few still remembered it. Nowadays it would be classified as an Adept talent, though that was far from the truth.

William felt his smile return, and this time it stayed. He did have magic after all, and very, very special magic. His father made a promise that he would help train William in his talent the best he could, since he was one of the last few who held extensive knowledge on Travelers.

"But first," he also said, "keep in mind that it would be wise to take another name for your self. If someone powerful enough got a hold of your real name, then they would have absolute control over everything you did."

William took this advice into careful consideration, and over the course of the following few months, his father trained him relentlessly, showing him how to pass through all kinds of different materials. It was hard work, but exciting work regardless. They began with rocks and dirt, since that was the softest material around. When William was good enough at that, they moved on to things like wood and glass, and he had a harder time with these. The wood only splintered and glass wouldn't budge. The only time a part of him passed through glass was when William merely shattered it with a fist in frustration. It took him longer than he would've liked to go through both of those mediums, nearly up to a year in fact.

Eventually his father believed he was ready enough to move onto the final medium; a year later it was time for William to try traveling through metal. Metal was the hardest substance for a one of his kind to penetrate, and only the most well versed Travelers ever managed the task successfully. It took him a long time to even slightly pass through metal of any kind; steel, iron, aluminum and tin, but it was too hard for him to accomplish full body. Both he and his father decided that metal would have to wait, along with traveling full body underground. It was difficult for William to control his direction and speed, and he wasn't yet able to heighten his senses. Whenever he went underground - mostly by accident - he was completely cut off from the world above. The prospect of ever having to do it intentionally scared the life out of him.

Despite the setbacks, William could never have asked for more. He was accepted with open arms into the underlying world of magic, and no longer had to deal with that hellish boarding school. No more getting bullied around and no more fighting. No more worrying about having to live a mortal life. At long last, after suffering through fifteen years of utter atrocity, he had somewhere to belong.

And to help usher in the new era of his life, William had chosen a new name to go by, something catchier and to represent his personality better. From now on, he decided to go by Billy-Ray, a nickname he briefly used when he was younger. Billy-Ray embraced this name as though it'd always been apart of him, and found that he preferred it a lot compared to his old drab title "William-Raymond". But he still had yet to choose himself a last name, something meaningful and something that pertained only to him. It would have to be perfect, and the boy had no idea of where to begin searching.

Fed up and getting nowhere fast, Billy-Ray decided to give up. Choosing his last name would have to be put on the back burner for the time being. There were other more pressing things he had to attend to, such as the urge that'd been growing inside him. Billy-Ray was aware of its existence for a few years now, it was the same clawing desire he felt way back when, on the day he slaughtered Ralph Sawyer. Since then it had condensed, stoking a primal fire in the boy's heart, a fire that could be ignored no longer. It was so strong it hurt, kept him awake. An instinct, a voice…a voice calling through Billy-Ray's subconscious, telling him to _kill_. He wanted to kill so badly.

And killing someone was exactly what he did; on one fateful Thursday he went out and took his first life.

Billy-Ray didn't know who the man was. He'd kept his emerald eyes on him from across the street for a while now. He didn't know the man's name or his job, and he didn't know if the guy had any family that would miss him; only that something about this man had rubbed off on him the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he looked or the way he smelled. It could very likely be the annoying sibilant S that always drove painful nails into Billy-Ray's ears when he spoke. Well, whatever it was that irked him, the teenage Traveler knew that this man was going to die today by his razor. It was only a matter of time now.

Finally, the man headed off down the road and the boy gave chase. He stayed above ground, not wanting to sour the occasion by failing to pull off a surprise attack from below. And then, that moment came. Billy-Ray violently lunged at the man, cornering him at a dead end, slicing with his razor every which way. His prey had no time to react, and even though his attacker was a child, the Traveler was also skinny, and could weasel out of any hold put on him. The onslaught took three minutes to come to an end, with Billy-Ray plunging his cold razor deep in the man's jugular, sharply cutting off his dying scream. Blood spurted in thick jets all over both of them and continued to collect in a puddle when the man collapsed on the ground.

It was a very messy and sloppy job, but not that bad for his first time. Smiling and panting, Billy-Ray stood over the dead man with the sibilant S, drenched in blood and letting it stain his clothes oily crimson. His dark urges had been settled, but the adrenaline from his kill was only fueling his fire. For now the desire had been sated, but he would want to do it again.

The boy focused on the rush of pure joy that coursed through his extremities, flooding every inch of his body with tantalizing power. But most importantly, he focused on the blood soaking his clothes. The sight of the gore was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on. And just like that it dawned on him, the realization hitting him harder than any fist could. Right then, Billy-Ray knew exactly what to call himself. His grin brightened and he was unable to keep from hollering.

This was his calling, what he was meant to do with his life. From this day forward, he knew he was destined to be a killer, and would establish himself as perhaps the worst that America had ever known. Perhaps one day, he would do so. But for right now, all that mattered to him was the present. At the age of seventeen, the Traveler finally discovered his true purpose. And it was inspired by the horrific bloodshed he had just committed. He stole another glance at the blood on himself and on the ground, and he let loose with another holler of enthrallment. It was surely the most momentous occasion of any day of his life so far.

The day that he chose his name.

Billy-Ray Sanguine.


End file.
